


The Balance

by edenrising



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4697900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenrising/pseuds/edenrising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magic was always meant to be in balance. There is the Light on one end, and the Dark on the other. Between them is a force that holds them together, combining the dichotomy of logic and emotion. As time passes, however, Dark becomes synonymous with Evil, the Light with Good, and the harmony that once prevailed, now missing. Balance must be restored. By any means. [Severus POV, 1980's start then Hogwarts era, Slight AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Magicarum Aequans Libra

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a prologue, written as the introduction of a long lost textbook that will appear later in the story. From the next chapter, the story is from 20-year-old Severus Snape's P.O.V., and will likely switch back and forth with Harry once he's born/old enough to have an inner dialogue.
> 
> I'm considering removing the prologue here since it isn't yet related to much happening in the story, and half the people who open this story quit after this chapter. So if this chapter doesn't seem that interesting, I beseech you to please give the next chapter a chance! :D *end begging*
> 
> Please enjoy~

Excerpt from "Magicarum Aequans Libra Examine"

(translated from Latin to Modern English)

Pompeii, Rome

Ab Urbe Condita Year 800 (C.E. 47)

Plebeian Emperor Claudius's Rule Year 6

It is with great pleasure and satisfaction that I, Schoolmaster of the Minerva Academy of Thought and Magic, present our first written theological guide and historical manuscript of the magical world. Unending decades of research have been poured into this project, and with our world finally becoming an interconnected series of relationships rather than the scattered Magi and Priests that were our forefathers, we have been able to create a place of study and knowledge to aide our future generations.

Within this manuscript you will find countless theories, experiments, case studies, ideas and conclusions that we have tested and observed since before the founding of Rome. The common denominator behind our discoveries is not only the theoretical origins of magic, but also the discovery of the inherent qualities found within magic itself.

The entity which has been referred to in the past by the names of various gods, but which we Magus simply refer to as Magic, is not sentient, as the Plebeians (non-priests) who worship its power might believe. While it does not have a consciousness which creatures such as ourselves might have, it does carry a type of passive cognizance that watches over those who use its power.

In our workings with the high elves of Epidii from the Isle of Britannia, we were allowed to hear some of their oral myths and histories. According to their legends, Magic is said to be the creator of the natural world and those who inhabit it, both Magical and Plebeian. It is also that which allowed our kind to separate from the Plebeians and experience the nature of magic to manipulate the world around us. For further reading, please turn to Chapter IV, Origins of Magic, or Chapter XVII Secrets of the Epidii Elves.

In other experiments, we have found evidence of the different types of Magic that work within us. The casting of magical spells and rituals seem to follow at least two main forms, divided by an affinity that is passed through blood. Our school has taken the liberty of naming them the, poetically fitting, Dark and Light.

Within Dark magic, the use of emotions is essential to manipulating the magical core. Or rather, it is that magical beings call on their experiences and associated memories and feelings to mold their magic into the form they wish it to take. The memory of the heat of a flickering flame against one's palm can be used to produce a similar flame through a spell when focused upon.

However, with or without a Dark affinity, when one practices the art beyond their own strength of will to control the emotions they are using, the emotions begin to control them. When one singular emotion begins controlling all the actions of a Magus, they are then considered to have fallen. Likened to that of a man who has become blind, so too is the fallen unable to see anything but the emotion that feeds them.

While those of the Dark affinity use emotion, the Light is for those with an inclination towards logic and symbolic based magics. By focusing one's magic through an equation or rune character, one is capable of manipulating it to their own uses. The runic alphabet of the Druids, for example, can be used to produce a flame much the same as Dark magic will, when the selected rune is drawn correctly in the air with a focus, such as a wand or staff.

But so too is their danger in the use of Light magic. Normally when a Magus of either affinity casts a spell and deleted some of their magical stores, the core is replenished through rest and food. However, those who repeatedly over exhaust their Light magic find that their cores and reserves of magic are slowly drained over their lifetime, decreasing by miniscule amounts with each spell cast, until they are no better than a Plebeian. They become susceptible to the sicknesses of the Plebeians and live far shorter lives than other Priests or Magus once their magic has been decreased to unusable levels.

Further reading of both these maladies can be found in Chapter XII, Magical Maladies and How to Avoid Them.

Despite the terrible consequences that might befall those unable to control their emotions or the overuse of rituals, we believe that when an existence of this magnitude shares power with a select set of beings, it also must provide a way to make sure it does not run amok to the point of self destruction. As we begin to settle amongst the Plebians, a sharing of knowledge has come about, leading to an emerging balance between the two affinities taking root in various magical communities. 

What is coming to be referred to as the Grey is the blending between Light and Dark, feeling and logic. By using the correct emotional state of mind to power one's spell, while at the same time using a magical focus, such as a wand, to direct it, Priests and Magi have been able to circumvent the fate that might otherwise be cast at them.

To learn more about this fortuitous discovery, we have dedicated the last chapter of this book to our ponderings and hopes of what this new form of magic could truly become. It is but one of the amazing discoveries that has come to our attention in our search for knowledge and community amongst our kind. Throughout this publication we provide a multitude of ideas, all of which which were put through hundreds of tests over many decades, in order provide anyone who might view these pages with a deeper understanding of the power Magic carries.

It is with great hope and passion that our school will continue to provide information for the betterment of Magi and Priests across the world, as well as provide a place for the joint sharing of knowledge and communication. As one of the head researchers I welcome you to peruse our first piece of major research and look forward to the future experiments and sparks of inspiration this book might produce. Without further ado, I present, "The Book of Magic and Balance."

Appolonaris Patroclus Zaratos

Head Priest, Temple of Apollo

Magus of Ritual and Transmutative Magic

Schoolmaster of Hermes Academy

Professor and Head Researcher of the Grey

 


	2. A Prophecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the information dump. I've edited this so many times, but some of the information is needed, and I'm to tired with rereading over and over in order to spread it out more creatively. Later chapters will have lesson of an avalanche of information. Please enjoy!

A strong, humid wind whipped about his robes, wrapping them tightly to his tall frame as he walked along the gravel road that led to the town of Hogsmeade. The recent weather reminded him of early winter, with torrents of rain that had come and gone over the past few days. August 3rd should have still been sunny and bright, but the clouds building overhead would soon threaten the town's inhabitants with another off-season downpour.

Mud-filled holes crowded the pathway, and by barely lifting the edge of the cloak snaking about his feet, he was mostly able to avoid soaking them up. Even the impervious spell he had cast was doing little to ward off the wet. As he began the short climb that led to the Hog's Head, Severus Snape thought back on to why he was here.

Several months earlier, his Lord had approached him about the interviews taking place for various posts at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord had taken it upon himself to task Severus with applying for both the Defense Against the Dark Arts and resident Potion's Master positions.

He wanted a teacher, or a spy as his main mission would be, that could gain knowledge of the inner workings of the castle. If he were able to infiltrate the school, the Dark Lord would them have direct access to Dumbledore and the politics and rumors that filled its walls.

Despite following through with his orders to apply, Severus felt he was lacking in 'real world experience' as had been requested on the Defense application. He had only graduated a year earlier, and despite the fact that he was finishing his Mastery in record time, he would not be an actual Master of any field for several more months. He knew, though, that he was being entrusted with an important task, especially when his Lord had begun uncharacteristically praising his seemingly amazing accomplishments, ones that would make him a perfect candidate.

Severus had been infamously rumoured about for his knowledge of the Dark Arts during his school years. He had been a competitor in the school's inter-house Dueling Association and had a perfect NEWTs score in the Defense field. Several newly invented defensive and offensive spells that were simple enough magic for almost anyone to cast could be traced back to his school years thanks to having been quickly adapted amongst his peers.

His Lord had further praised him, staying that such insight into the creation of dueling spells was indispensable when teaching future generations about how to defend themselves. And it would hopefully make an acceptable compromise with Severus' familial history for Dumbledore. Despite being a half blood, he was a Slytherin, and one who descended from the Prince line, well renowned to have been highly proficient in the Darker magics.

Severus was also one of the few who knew what little there was to know about the origins of magic. The few documents and manuscripts left that recorded any information were clutched close to those who happened to own them. His mother, even after having been cast from her familial home, had brought one such document with her, and had taught him well.

But as the biggest reason for his assured selection, Severus held something that few other Dark wizards had; a friend who was very much of the Light. Despite the misfortune that had happened in his 6th year, Severus was still held in close confidence to the recently married Lily Potter nee Evans. His Lord thought that such closeness was a step closer to the Headmaster's good graces.

As an auxiliary plan, they had the Potions position. In the year since his graduation, Severus had focused on nothing but the Potions Mastery he had applied for straight out of school, and was on track to finish his final experiment next year in early February. He would then be eligible for joining the exceptional ranks of those who could claim Mastery to such a delicate and advanced art. His proctor and adviser was the current Potions Master at Hogwarts, Professor Slughorn, and it was through him that Severus knew there would be an opening for the post.

Slughorn had been getting on in his years and was planning on leaving the school in order to retire. It was a topic that the Professor had made sure to bring up liberally at the last few Slug Club meetings when Severus had still been in school. Later encounters for his Mastery consultations, as well as further invitations to tea that he was unable to avoid in a polite manner, had informed him of his mentor's irritation with the school.

He had raved about his unwillingness to continue in an environment that was slowly being leaked of its traditionally high-standards and had continuously hinted that he was looking for a replacement. After relaying such information to his Lord, Potions had been added to his application with Slughorn's approval and recommendation. His old Professor had quickly forwarded a listing of the times and dates when interviews were being held.

And so here he was, stepping through the door frame of the Hog's Head for an interview as the first splatter of rain began to fall behind him. Why the interviews weren't being held in the Headmaster's office, or even somewhere in the school was uncertain, but Severus knew the Headmaster was predisposed to bouts of all sorts of strange mannerism and brushed the thought aside.

The lighting inside was dim, and the dark clouds seen through the dirty windows, blotting out the sun so deeply as they were, did nothing to help. A handful of patrons filled the odd chairs scattered about the open space. An old man missing most of his teeth was sitting on the far side of the counter, and a few dirty children played a game of Exploding Snap near the fireplace with a weathered and worn looking deck. A hag with a tangle of dirty hair cackled quietly to herself in the corner, catching Severus' attention as his eyes quickly scanned the room, searching for any hidden signs of danger.

He reluctantly relaxed as they landed on the old bartender standing behind the counter, cleaning a dirty-looking glass with a heavily stained rag.

''Good afternoon, Aberforth,'' he spoke in a quiet greeting as he approached the counter and rested his hands lightly on the worn top.

"Severus!" Eyebrows rose up into a wrinkled forehead as the man's voice spoke with gruff surprise. He set down his cup and cloth and held out a weathered and heavily creased hand.

"It's good to see you lad. Been more than a year since I last saw you come in here!" He looked over the younger man with a tsk as they grasped hands. "Your last Hogsmeade weekend if I remember correct."

Severus felt the stirring of a guilty schoolboy begin in his gut and quickly shoved the emotion under a mask of polite remorse. "Yes, sir. I apologize for not having stopped by before now."

Aberforth brushed it aside, waving his hand in the air. "If I've told you once I've told you twice, call me Abe, boy. And I know quite well why you haven't been back, no need to be sayin' sorry." The older man gave him a wink.

"You said you'd be working on yer mastery for something or another the day you left. Never seen a 7th year about to graduate who was so excited to keep on studying."

The ex-Slytherin felt a bit affronted as Aberforth gave an amused chuckle and resumed cleaning the glasses in front of him.

"How's that coming along any who? Still have quite a few years ahead of you no doubt. My own mastery in Magical Creatures took me about 10 years to complete although that was mostly because of all the 'inappropriate spell on a goat' nonsense. You know, I still wonder what on earth did they think I was doing?"

The older man gave a grunt and shook the rag in his hand towards Severus as if scolding him.

"Here I am minding my own business, working on an attempt to make a goat produce bezoars more quickly and they think I'm having a bit o' 'how's your father'! With a goat! Pah."

As he gestured with his arms, the glass held in the barman's hand came dangerously close to flying across the room towards where the toothless old man was sitting, and Severus could see him hunching further over his cup with a protective gesture.

He wondered if the emotion he was currently feeling was akin to what a child might feel when listening to an elderly member of their family ramble on about events and happenings that were long forgotten in any other minds, but were repeated avidly to anyone who would listen, as if it were a story about the inauguration of a new queen.

Severus could no longer count how many times he had slipped off to the Hog's Head on a weekend to escape the hustle and bustle of a Hogsmeade Trip, only to have the story of Abe's beloved goats reenacted time and again. He was afraid that the man would be off on another hours long tangent and he would miss his chance for an interview, but Aberforth gave a short harrumph and instead of continuing, setting down a glass of butterbeer in front of him.

"Well, Snape? Let's hear it. It's not often one of my Slytherins come back for a visit to catch up."

Unwillingly admitted or not, he cared about Aberforth's opinion. Having rarely had experiences such as sharing something he was proud of with another, the words poured out of him.

"One of the requirements to becoming a Master is to prove you have the ability to invent new potions to 'help improve the wizarding world." Severus gave a discreet snort at the thought of what several other Mastery candidates had put forth as improvements.

"I was able to complete the two necessary inventions based on theoretical research in the first 5 months by using several of my creations from my school years and adapting them to the requirements for my Mastery." His hand began to move as he talked, gestures to somehow explain the technical aspects.

"One is an antihistamine that is applied directly to the skin around the nasal cavity and is then inhaled through the nasal vestibule and creates a protective layer around the nasal conchae, preventing allergens from being able to enter or irritate the sinus capillaries."

As Severus felt himself settle into a lecturing mindset, he noticed Aberforth's eyes adopting a glazed look. It was similar to one that Lily had sometimes worn when he was explaining the intricacies of this or that potion and he realized he might need to clarify his vocabulary for a man who lead a relatively simple life.

"It's er... Essentially, it's an allergy medicine, so flowers and animals won't make you sneeze. Muggles have many types of medicine for such things, but the wizarding world is sorely lacking."

A light of understanding spread across the elder man's face and he felt a sigh of relief flow through him.

"The other is a skin cream for dried and burned skin. I tried to make the compound more manageable so that the common witch or wizard could purchase it without a visit to St. Mungo's, and gave it a longer shelf life so that it wouldn't go to waste."

Severus pulled a small clay jar from the pouch within his robes and set it on the counter in front of the other man.

″Its much the same as what I brought during the school years but this one's shelf life should last a bit longer. 3 years to be precise, although I'm sure you will finish with it before then. Send me an owl if you need a replacement, and I'll send you a new jar.″

When Severus had first met Aberforth, he had been in his 3rd year at Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy had brought him to the Hog's Head and introduced the two of them, telling him that the bartender was a good man to be in contact with. He had visited every Hogsmeade weekend since then, enjoying the man's company and sage advice.

The man was fond of handshakes, offering them as a sign of respect even to those far younger than himself. Severus had noticed during one such instance that the elder man's hand had felt like ragged stone.

He had asked about the man's hands in his normal blunt manner, but the man had laughed, and offered a vague explanation. When he had been younger, it seemed, Aberforth had been caught in a cross-firing spell that left his hands and wrists in a scarred and somewhat painful state ever since. He had been receiving a potion from St. Mungo's since then, but it was expensive, and he used it sparingly, only to dampen what little nerve damage remained.

Interested in the mechanics of such a potion, Severus had looked up the properties in the Hogwarts library. The main ingredient used by St. Mungo's healers was dragonwood, known for its fire resistant properties to the point of being able to handle a dragon's flame but it was a difficult to find and extremely expensive.

He had made it an extracurricular challenge to find a simpler solution to such a powerful and rare ingredient. It had taken him several months of research and experiment, but he had eventually prevailed. His potion made use of pumpkins, which was an underutilized ingredient in the British Isles, but famous in the Americas from centuries ago for treating a variety of ailments, including burns and dry skin.

He had quickly offered the concoction to Aberforth in exchange for butterbeers when he happened to stop by on Hogsmeade weekends. Instead he had received free service on almost everything he ordered from that point on.

They had kept the exchange silent, Severus feeling awkward and embarrassed at the tears in Aberforth's eyes when he had first offered the potion, and Aberforth respecting the pride of the frugal and spartan Slytherin. But he had helped the young Slytherin out several times by offering full service for whoever happened to be with him, raising his esteem amongst his fellow classmates by allowing them to think he was treating them.

Since his graduation, Severus had been so wrapped up in his Potions Mastery that he had neglected many important parts of his life, such as this. He had self-imposed a promise in his fourth year to supply his mentor-friend with the potion that would reduce and heal the burning and stinging sensation that came with the flaking skin on Aberforth′s hands.

But the last batch he had sent was more than a year and a half prior, which had surely been used up at this point. Such an occurrence would have then forced the older man to once more visit St. Mungo's for the expensive burn treatment.

Severus re-avowed his promise to continue providing the man with his hand cream from then on, regardless of any troubles that might be in his own life. The rough feel of Aberforth's skin, which currently felt like raw sandpaper, caused another guilty pang in his chest, a feeling he knew he deserved but hated nonetheless.

The man across from him stood silently, staring at the ceramic container sitting in front of him. With slow movements, he reached into the pocket of his shabby looking coat and removed a small pot identical to the one sitting in front of him.

″I knew you were busy.. I didn't want to interrupt your studies with an owl from a silly old man.″

His voice, which had taken on a hoarse tone once more, broke off and Severus could see a suspicious shine to the bartender's downcast eyes.

″I tried not to use it all up. I was just about to visit Mungo's and see if I could get put on a waiting list for some more dragonwood."

A rough hand reached out and covered his own, gripping softly but firmly, and he met the sparkling blue eyes that normally hid behind tangled gray hair and smudged wire spectacles.

"Thank-you, Severus. You have no idea how much this means to me."

Severus could only give a nod of acknowledgment in return under the weight of the emotions in Aberforth's eyes.

As the grandfatherly man across from him turned away to set down the two identical jars of potion, Severus discreetly ignored how the dirty rag, never far from the man's hands, went up to dab at the moisture collecting in the his eyes. He took a slow drink of the alcohol set in front of him, enjoying the burn that ran down his throat while Aberforth applied a bit of the potion to his skin.

Deciding that an awkward silence was only moments away, Severus continue the talk about his mastery.

"I've but one requirement left to finish for my Mastery, and despite having selected a rather difficult task for myself, I feel that I am set to finish early next year, possibly in February. I am working to complete an acceptably improved experimental version of the Wolfsbane and have it recognized by the Board of Potion Masters.''

He gave a rare satisfied grin, pleased with himself and his own ability to effectuate the terribly high standards of such a difficult potion in the amount of time it took most to simply finish the theoretical work.

Aberforth blinked several times at him, eyes still somewhat moist from earlier. "Well, that means... I mean... that would make it.. what, 2 years... Severus!"

A large smile filled with awe deepened the wrinkles filling his face and creased the crows feet that surrounded his eyes. He held out his now smooth right palm once more.

"That is an amazing accomplishment you've made for yourself. Congratulations, Severus."

''Thank-you,″ Severus offered sincerely, shaking the extended hand firmly while knowing that the man across from him was one of the few who would feel genuine joy for something good happening in his life.

''Here, some drinks and a meal on me, anything the young Potions Master wants!" Aberforth said, leaning back from the counter with a smile and a laugh in his voice, gesturing broadly with his arms towards the small stove that was set into the far wall.

Severus quirked an amused brow at his older friend's quick change of attitude, but slowly shook his head.

"Unfortunately, I will have to decline for now. As much as I came by to speak with you, I am also to attend some business today. I believe Headmaster Dumbledore is holding interviews for several positions in one of the upper rooms. I was told to arrive here at 3.''

"Well, well, well," Aberforth chuckled."After all your hard work to complete a Mastery, you fancy yourself a teacher? And here I thought you'd be glad to stay away from all the children."

He gave another amused laugh and Severus threw a small scowl in his direction. With only the slightest hint of put upon airs, he continued.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts is a particular interest of mine, and I would sincerely enjoy teaching others about its complexity. And with my skills in the Potions area and my Mastery soon to be complete, it would be appropriate to begin my search for a job beholden to such a high level ranking.

"Taking over Professor Slughorn's post would be an ideal. A place to sleep and experiment with ingredients and tools funded by the school, in exchange for teaching little children how not to blow themselves up, seems like a worthwhile endeavor.'' He felt a tingle of excitement creep up his spine just thinking about it.

"Well, I wish you luck to still be thinking that in a few years. It's more difficult than it seems if the constant flow of frazzled teachers that come through here is anything to go by. The headmaster is upstairs with some old biddy for the Divination post. He should be about finished."

Aberforth gave a slow smirk, somewhat at odds with his grandfatherly appearance and nodded at Severus. "An old woman who came in here was claiming to be a descendant of the great seer Cassandra Trewlawny. You should know her from history, she's the who predicted all those fluxes in the exchange system of dangerous creatures that upped the level of Class A Non-tradeable goods."

Severus gave a dip of his head, remembering from his research into runespoor and other protected snake species as potions ingredients. Those fanciful 'predictions' from a century ago had changed many aspects of the Potions world. Many Masters had been forced to find alternatives to important potions that called for now illegal ingredients.

Several of his own theoretical potions required components that Trewlawny's premonition had prohibited, but would never be created unless the ban was lifted. Despite the now over abundance within the runespoor and related populations, he wondered if the ministry would ever move into action.

Aberforth gave a shrug and a speculative sigh. "I doubt she has any real sort of talent, what with the way she was carrying on. Irritated old Helen over there, got her all wrapped up in a tizzy."

He gestured to the hag in the corner who had looked up and glared in their direction at the sound of her name. Shaking his head, he continued wiping another glass with the same rag from earlier.

"Feel free to head on up, they're in room number 2. If you've got a moment, stop by again before you leave, I've got sommut for you.''

Severus looked in the direction the man had gestured towards and noticed a set of rickety stairs that disappeared behind a false wall and nodded again. Stepping back from the counter, he left his glass still mostly full, unwilling to head into an important interview smelling like a drunkard. He cast a breath freshening spell to erase what little scent there was.

''Thank-you Aberforth. I promise to visit again, hopefully as one of those frazzled teachers you spoke so highly of.''

He spoke in a sarcastic tone and set a few knuts on the counter in thanks. Aberforth nodded towards him with a matching look and went back to cleaning his cups as Severus headed towards the stairs leading up to the guest rooms.

A flash of light echoed through a small side window, quickly followed by a roaring boom of thunder that set him on edge with its suddenness. Such weather was simply abnormal for August, even in this area of Scotland, he thought, remembering the building storm as he had made his way here.

There was a heavy feeling in the air that he could sense with his whole body. He would assume it was solely from the storm itself, except for the fact that even within the building there was a sense of growing tension. The sound of rain on the roof picked up, as did the wind, and by the time he reached the top of the stairs, a full-blown squall was raging outside.

Several doors stood along the sides of a short corridor down from where he was standing. A silver number one was nailed to the top of the frame across from him. The walls of the corridor were paneled in dark solid wood that gave a sturdy feeling to the building notwithstanding the dankness and dirt. But even knowing that magic was mixed in to help support the building did not ease the impression that the world might crash down around him with the gale outside.

Despite the howling of the wind, he could still make out the sounds of a conversation behind the door on his right as he turned into the foyer, subsequently with a bronze number 2 fastened to the front of it. As he stepped closer and raised his arm to knock, a deep resonating voice burst forth suddenly from the room, booming as if imitating the thunder outside.

His hand lurched forward in surprise, brushing against the door and causing it to peak open. His mind immediately began cataloging what was within even as it began to record what he soon realized was a woman's voice.

There sat Dumbledore in a bright sunrise shaded robe, little suns and stars rising and setting across the fabric. A matching hat sat upon his head, a little moon and sun dangling from the tip. He was seated in an old wooden chair, pulled up next to a small table arranged with delicate looking china that was oddly misplaced among the Gothic antiquity of the surrounding furniture. The older man's eyes, the exact shade he had just seen downstairs reflected in Aberforth's, were blown usual twinkle that he remembered from his school days was missing as he stared over his teacup.

Across from him, next to a window sat a middle-aged woman whose head was thrown back at an odd angle, wild orange and brown hair fluffed out about her chair. Large spectacles were skewed across her short nose, making her eyes look larger than they were. She reminded him of a giant bug that had just been stepped on, but the voice Severus was hearing seemed to be echoing from her throat, reaching deep into him and holding his mind in focus on the exact moment.

"The One with the power to vanquish the Lords

Will be born as the seventh month dies...

The One shall be marked equal by the Dark and Light

The Other shall mark Him inferior...

And He will have power they know naught...

And all may die at the hands of the Other...

For none can live while the Other survives...

For the oath will fade unless Three are revived...

The One with the power to vanquish the Lords

Will be born as the seventh month dies..."

There was a space of silence as the last words trailed off, and in that moment, Severus felt a part of himself shift.

It was as if something had locked onto him, deep within his magical core and he realized it was the prophecy. His magic was accepting what was before him as truth, just as his mind passively acknowledged it to be true as well, despite the lack of proof.

Trewlawny's figure suddenly snapped forward from its oddly angled sprawl into a somewhat normal profile, hunched over her tea cup as if it would tell her all the secrets of life. She began speaking mid-sentence, as though the conversation that she was having earlier had been cut off halfway through.

''...although I don't always remember what they say. My mother told me once that she thought I had fainted in the living room but she could hear me mumbling about 'the green people', 'fiery stones' and 'destruction', and she was terrified that I was speaking of muggle aliens or the end of the world! But low and behold the next day, down it fell, the old Goblin-dug ruby mine from the last decade, all mined out. And another time..''

"Ahem, thank-you for your very thorough answer my dear." Dumbledore cleared his throat.

Even through the crack in the door, Severus noticed a grandfatherly smile sliding in to cover the sharp look that had momentarily reflected a mind that was surely whirling through the possibilities of a such a sudden prophecy. Especially one that involved "Lords" of any kind. He acknowledged himself to be far above the average intelligence of wizards, and because of that, he knew that this might be a topic above his own current understanding. He would allow his own Lord to ponder the ramifications of such a powerful prophecy and work out his own involvement at a later date.

"I would like to congratulate you, Madam Trewlawny, and let you know that you will indeed have a position in our lovely school," Dumbledore stated delightedly, his hands coming together in a steeple before him.

Severus was surprised to hear the headmaster accept such an... obvious fool as a professor for a school so well known for its high quality and standards. He supposed that due to a true prophecy having just been revealed in front of him, the consequences of letting her loose and missing another glimpse of the future would be disastrous. But her lack of memory proved her seer's blood to be miniscule at best.

Or maybe it was simply that Professor Slughorn was correct.

Either way, the Dark Lord would surely be upset for missing his opportunity to capture the witch for himself, but there was little Severus could do.

While he mused, Dumbledore began sweeping his hand across the small table and the tea, biscuits and muffin crumbs began swirling away into thin air.

"I think that should be about all for today, Madame. I will have Professor McGonagall, our Deputy Headmistress, send you an owl with several forms to sign, and information for our future meeting.''

Dumbledore stood from his chair with a genial smile, holding out his hand in a gentlemanly manner to help Trewlawny from her chair. Severus quickly backed away from the door, noticing offhandedly that the wind and rain outside had died down and the thunder seemed to be echoing from farther away.

''Oh.. OH! Oh my, thank-you so much Headmaster Dumbledore,'' Trewlawny said with a worshiping tone, as if she had just been offered all the riches of the world. Severus knew that it was possibly in exchange for her freedom.

"It's been such a pleasure speaking with you! You cannot believe how grateful I am for such a wonderful opportunity. Oh it would make my great grandmother Cassandra so proud to know her line still has the Eye to see into what Fate has in store for the future. Oh thank-you Headmaster.."

There was a clattering sound and Severus imagined she must be falling over herself and onto what remained of the tea set with her blubbering attitude, as he moved further down the hallway.

''Now now, no need to kick up such a fuss, I'm sure you knew from the start you would be picked for the job. I look forward to working with you in the future, my dear," Dumbledore spoke with a smile in his voice, no doubt enjoying the oddness of the woman before him and planning the many ways they could entertain themselves.

As he heard their footsteps approach the door, Severus knew he had to act or he would be accused of overhearing their conversation, or worse, the prophecy. He strode forward once more, making sure to step heavily, causing the floorboards beneath him to creak. Knocking swiftly, he widened his eyes to show surprise on his normally stoic face as the door creaked open fully against his fist.

Dumbledore's eyes flashed towards him with suspicion, but it was quickly hidden behind the usual twinkle in his eyes, a swift reflex for such an old man. Severus didn't know whether he had managed to hide that fact that he had been lurking or not, but in a grand voice Dumbledore called out to him with a relaxed posture.

''Severus, my boy, it's so nice to see you! And prompt as always!"

The man gestured with his arm as if he would like nothing better than to embrace Severus as a long lost son, but was restricted by the woman on his other. Severus was grateful for her presence at that moment.

"Please allow me a moment to lead my guest Madame Trewlawny out before joining you. A new pot of tea might be in order, as I do believe ours has gone cold. Oh, and do help yourself to some sherbet lemons, they're in the tin can on the table.''

His jovial voice echoed into the hallway as he lead Trewlawny towards the door. She gave him an uncertain smile which he replied to with a stony look. At his sneer, she quickly turned away from him and hid her face within her hideous tangle of orange hair.

Severus stood to the side as they toddled out of the room and down the stairs, before seating himself next to the table holding the cooled tea service. He tapped his wand on the surface and settled in for a short wait as he fixed himself a cup of tea with the new steaming pot that appeared.

He glanced disparagingly over at the tin of lemon candies, remembering none too fondly of the many times he had been called to the headmaster's office after a fight or prank with the told with a twinkling smile that there would be no severe punishment for anyone, just detentions, was infuriating, and an offer of candy was the only attempt at condolences he had ever received. Even after the bloody Lupin incident, as he lay in the infirmary, all he had received was a pat on the head and a tin can next to his bed.

Despite the fact that, at the time, he had claimed to himself that nothing could ever be enough, he had begrudgingly forgiven the elder man. Lily's insistence and logic that the headmaster was simply trying to protect those who couldn't protect themselves had somehow pushed through his anger-clouded judgment.

Dumbledore had been trying to protect Lupin, despite his 'Dark' creature status, from a world that would have killed the boy had they known he was amongst school children. It was much like how the Slytherin House was judged, and Severus could at least acknowledge if not respect the headmaster's attempt at protection.

He had never been severely punished for his own, sometimes brutal, retaliations either. Lupin's own apology for the incident and offer of a magical debt had also lessened his anger to some extent. In the end, he laid his ire solely at the feet of Black and Potter.

He was pulled from his reminiscence of the past as Dumbledore returned, jovial and bright. The aging man sat once more in the old wooden chair that Severus had seen him sitting in earlier while peering through the door. The sun and moon dangling from his hat were twinkling in the freshly exposed sunlight peaking through the murky window.

"I hope you don't mind if I make myself a cup of tea? The madame from earlier simply loved to talk and I found myself so caught up in her tales that I couldn't bare to interrupt with a sip and now I find myself simply parched!"

The elder man had already begun going through the motions of preparing himself a cup, but still had the gall to look questioningly at Severus, as if for permission. Severus gestured for him to continue with his dalliances and was not surprised when the headmaster took an inordinate amount of time preparing.

Hot earl gray blended with light milk, and enough sugar to kill a muggle diabetic, Severus snidely noted.

Next was the selection of cookies and biscuits from the tray that had appeared next to the pot when Dumbledore had seated himself. One by one, his nobbled fingers hovered over each one, as if it was a selection his life depended on. To the headmaster, it probably did, but Severus felt his patience being slowly tugged on until he realized what was happening.

'So we begin,' Severus thought to himself with a disdainful grimace as a reminder his Lord had offered him came to the forefront of his mind.

His Lord had explained that despite Dumbledore's forgiving and kindly nature, the man was also a skilled manipulator. He was apt to throwing his political opponents in the Wizengamot and ICW off-balance with odd habits, but supposedly he could be just as ruthless as the Dark Lord when it came to getting what he wanted, especially if the last war with Grindelwald was anything to compare to. He was someone who hid cunning looks such as earlier behind his grandfatherly appearance.

Severus, however, was very much a man of scientific thought, despite his propensity to Dark magic, and so took both his own school-age preconceptions and the Dark Lord's impressions and balanced them in his mind, waiting for the chance to see which weighed out.

Superficially, he settled on an indifferent look, and took the quiet moment to attempt settling his Occlumency barriers by pushing the prophecy that had occurred just minutes ago to the back of his mind, under a mine of locks and shields.

"Would you like a biscuit, Severus? These raspberry flavored ones go so well with a bit of clotted cream," Dumbledore's delighted voice carried through the quietness of the room.

As if to emphasize the deliciousness, the older man began to eat one, several crumbs finding their way into his beard and a bit of cream smearing itself onto his upper lip.

"No thank-you, Headmaster," he declined politely.

Instead he took a calming sip of tea, allowing the heat and taste to focus his attention elsewhere. He lifted his cup and almost unconsciously began using sense of smell and his taste buds to search for potions of any sort that might be blended into his cup. Finding none, he took a larger taste, habitually remembering to hold the china properly as a respected pureblood should, a habit dating back to the etiquette lessons his mother had drilled into him in defiance of his being a half-blood.

"Well, Severus. I do find myself surprised to see you here this fine day." He gave a beaming smile over his cup and Severus mentally rolled his eyes at the thought of the storm that had been raging almost moments ago.

"Surely you can't already be feeling the need for a sense of nostalgia from your old Alma mater. My, you only graduated a year ago, such a lively bunch you were. Feels as if it were only yesterday." Dumbledore gave a pleasant sigh, eyes cast upward in remembrance.

"I assure you it is for much more practical reasons that I have come. And as I'm sure you remember from the letter I owled you, I am here to apply for a teaching position." Severus replied, polite and emotionless, but secretly doubtful of the Headmaster's mind.

"Yes, yes, I suppose I do recall as such. In fact, we have several openings this year, but I cannot find it within my memory as to which you could possibly be interested in. Surely not Divination!" There was a facetious laugh that irked him, but he kept himself neutral.

"I happened to overhear from Professor McGonagall that Professor Mugwort's successor was unable to continue a second year. Something about a vampire clan in Albania calling to him for research."

"Oh, Professor Quirrell! What an interesting young man he was. A bit younger than most of the other teachers with an odd stutter when he spoke. And always so afraid of his own shadow! I was worried I would spook him up a wall like Mrs. Norris if I were to ever meet him in the hallways at night. I was sad to see him go, but he was quite insistent."

"Yes.. well," Severus gave a pause.

"The constant change of professors from when I was a student seems to have continued. I believe I have enough experience in the field to teach the subject up to NEWTs level, and past if required. Alongside this I can promise enough self-discipline so as not to up a leave after just a year because I allowed a group of children run me out of the school." He held a strong conviction on this point, remembering the personal disgust at the various weak-minded professors he had encounter throughout his years.

"As a prior student, I am predisposed to the areas of study that tended to be overlooked by the perpetual rotation," he continued. "My experience with dueling and spell creation, as referenced from Professors Slughorn, Mugwort, and my 4th year Professor Salmath, provide me ample material from which to teach a Defense class."

Severus reached into the folds of his robes and pulled from an inner pocket several envelopes held closed with wax seals encased in minor security charms.

"You had such talent in dueling," Dumbledore offered as he accepted the letters handed to him. "If I remember correctly, Professor Salmath was the one who encouraged you to join the dueling club. You only attended the Tournament in your 5th year, oddly enough held when several Gryffindor quidditch players had been impaired by a recent match, and won with a spectacular final duel against Remus Lupin." The headmaster sent him a beaming smile from behind the now open letter he was looking over.

Severus felt mildly irritated at the implication that he had only entered because Potter and Black had been indisposed. They had pulled some flashy moves during a quidditch game that forced them to be bedridden for two weeks after they had failed to pull up from the ground quickly enough.

He had been looking forward to facing off with them in an arena where he could have throw legitimately nasty spells towards them and not been blamed for the outcome. His duel with Remus had almost made up for it, with the amount of skill he had need to put towards the challenge of defeating him. In the end though, he had won, exhausted but thoroughly pleased with himself. His lack of later entries had simply been attested to greater interest in other pursuits.

"I was never so proud as I was then to see one of my quieter students come so completely out of their shell."

This quiet statement added to the end of Dumbledore's short monologue stopped his irritation short. It warmed him in an odd way that the Headmaster of over 400 students would pay such attention to the quiet studious Slytherin that he had been.

Then again, he thought, he rivalry with Potter and Black probably put him into the spotlight more often than not, in the headmaster's eyes.

"It is quite admirable goal you've taken on for yourself, Severus. A teaching position is not something to be taken lightly, and I know you might feel prepared for it. However, seeing how you only just graduated a year ago yourself, what do you believe gives you the qualifications for teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Dumbledore's eyes seemed to twinkle brightly as he asked this question and for a moment, Severus was thrown off balance. What could he be thinking to have such a look about him? Severus held three glowing recommendations from noted professors and academics in the Defense and Dueling world, a perfect NEWTs score, and variety of other accolades and accomplishments that he had listed in his original application. He was by no means attempting to be egotistical, but what more could the man be fishing for?

"In the capacity of Defence, as I am sure you remember from my schooldays, I knew far more counters and spells than most other students throughout the years. I spent and still dedicate time to researching new curse, jinxes, counters and spells that are light, neutral and sometimes even dark. I hold no discrimination to different fields of magic, and can teach defense against both light and dark, offensive and defensive magic.

"In the past year, I have been working on a Potions Mastery, and have encountered several types of creatures considered to be Dark and dangerous to wizarding kind, including werewolves, thestrals and vampires. One of the potions I am working on requires use of werewolf parts and knowledge, thus I have been spending an inordinate amount of time studying them in depth.

"However, I understand that this position is one of the more important areas of study and requires the highest of qualifications. If my own are found to be lacking in this field, I have also received further recommendation as the next Potions Master from Professor Slughorn. I believe it is included within the letters I handed you as well. Once I have completed my Mastery, I should be more than qualified."

Severus finished with a confident tone to his voice. There was very little Dumbledore could do to refute such a claim, as it was true.

"Horace was just telling me about that the other day. How has your Mastery been going? Surely you cannot be completed for another several years at least." Dumbledore offered a placating smile, as if he was trying to lessen the blow to Severus' pride whilst delivering the well known fact that it took most wizards 5-10 years to complete a Mastery in any subject. Potions tended to be on the longer end of the spectrum.

"I am due to receive my Mastery in early June of next year. My experimental potions are in their final stages and I am to send them in for review on the 4th of February. I then must give a lecture about the creation, application and uses of the various potions I've worked on to a review board in April. When I am approved, the awards ceremony for those who have completed their Masteries this year will be held on the 7th of June."

As a spark of honest astonishment flitted through the headmaster's face, Severus allowed a slight smirk to grace his own, letting the man know he was indeed quite proud of becoming the youngest Potions Master in recorded history. He knew he had a brilliant mind when it came to potions, though he never spoke of it often, and he had the highest of confidence that he would be on stage with the other, older wizards who would also complete their studies next year.

"Congratulations Severus," came the unexpected exclamation from the headmaster. Hands soft with wrinkles, Dumbledore patted his own in a warm clasp, congratulating him. "You make an old man proud to have been your teacher."

Severus gave a silent nod, awkwardly acknowledging the man's praise.

"With such accolades to your name, there are so many paths laid out before you. I am quite surprised in that I cannot quite comprehend why you would wish to return to a school filled with... what was it you once called them?

"Whimpering little dunderheads who do nothing but endanger others in their wildly unsuccessful attempts to gain even more attention at making fools of others while trying to flood the Slytherins or break off the Gryffindor tower(1) through their malignantly intentional potions mistakes."

Dumbledore paused, a thoughtful look passing across his face as Severus felt a well of embarrassed amusement fill him.

"Or was it the flashy wand waving fools who have no regard for the delicate simplicity that can be found within a softly simmering potion or the finely balanced differences between chopping, dicing and mincing. I'm sure I've heard both before.."

Severus had the decency to hide the delighted smirk that attempted to cross his face at the perfect recitation of his rant after the Marauder's final prank that had taken place during the last Potions class of the year before NEWTs.

They had thought it would be fun to ignore the instructions written on the board and attempt to create the largest, most versatile concoction they could think of. Severus had finished his own potion early and when he had finally looked up from bottling it, he noticed the impending explosion and had been able to cast and hold a compression spell around the cauldron, long enough to allow most of the students time to escape the classroom.

Potter and Black, Lupin having been in the infirmary that day due to the previous full moon, had been close to collapsing against one another in laughter at the sight of Severus and several other Slytherins covered in potions goop and powdered with centuries old mortar dust that had fallen from the ceiling during the explosion.

They hadn't thought it so funny, however, when Professor Slughorn came rushing from the room, calling for the mediwitch as several students had been hurt by falling bricks, and Peter Pettigrew, the last of the marauders had been knocked unconscious and pinned beneath a fallen potions cabinet.

Having severely hurt one of their own in what they thought to be a simple attempt at a prank, they sprang into action, running down the hallway in order to collect the Healer. Other Gryffindors helped to move the cabinet itself and aid the incapacitated students from the room.

No one had been fatally injured, many simply patched up for bruises or a couple glasses of Skele-grow for broken bones, but Pettigrew had been sent to St. Mungo's for the summer with a damaged spinal cord and was forced to delay his NEWTs until this year's session.

Suffice to say, it had taken some extreme apologizing on the part of both Black and Potter. In the months after his release from St. Mungo's when Severus had stopped by to visit with Lily, it had been amusing to see his two rivals bowing and scraping to the demands of their short and pudgy little friend.

The last he had heard of Pettigrew, both Black and Potter had provided quite a bit of monetary funds for starting up a magical menagerie in the Alley. Having only had skills when it came to magical animals, Peter was an up-and-coming new shop during the back to school season this year, helping many of the new 1st years find suitable familiars to take with them to Hogwarts'.

At the time of the incident however, Lily had been furious. Having plans for a late summer wedding with the Potter heir, she had almost delayed her marriage indefinitely at the thought of marrying a man who could harm his own friends in such a way. James, terrified of losing the love of his life, had done everything in his power to apologize to her, and had finally come to Severus on his hands and knees, asking for his help in persuading Lily to continue the wedding.

To say he had been shocked would have been putting it mildly, especially when James had been willing to release the life debt between them, if only Severus would help. They both knew it would never have transferred for such a small exchange, but the pleading look in James' eyes and his confession irritatingly convinced Severus that the man before him had matured somewhat from his younger bullying self, if only infinitesimally. The pranks had certainly calmed after his renewed friendship with Lily.

'Snivell.. no, Severus, please. I know what I did was a terrible thing. I never meant to hurt anyone, whether it be Peter or a Slytherin or... anyone. I should have thought it through more, I should have held Sirius back from making it more explosive, there are so many things I could have done. Lily.. I can't lose her over a stupid last hurrah. Please Severus.. You are the only one she would trust to listen to something like this.'

He didn't want to think about why, exactly, he accepted, but if he had to admit it to himself, it was the mention of Lily's trust that reminded him of how he had betrayed it himself a year ago.

'Get up Potter. I'll help you. Even I can admit you've.. matured a bit this year. You will never deserve a woman like Lily. But I will help you.'

He had spoken in a sharp tone while thrusting his hand before him in an offer to help the other stand from his kneeling position. Potter had reached out hesitantly and grasped the pale potion stained hand before him, but before pulling himself up he whispered quietly,

'No one could ever deserve Lily.'

And Severus could do nothing but nod his head in agreement at the thought of the kindhearted and fiery redhead. If Lily could forgive him for the terrible name he had called her little more than a year ago, he could somehow forgive and help James Potter. Doing otherwise would be a terrible disservice to Lily just as much as it would himself or Potter.

Severus had gone to visit her the next day and had, in a completely no-nonsense tone, told her she was being foolish and that while he agreed James was a stupid, childish man who should have known better than to mess about in such a way during a Potions class, she knew the man better than to accuse him of purposely attempting to harm anyone in such a way.

As much as he thought Potter would never be a good enough man for his Lily, he knew they loved each other, and something so easily fixed shouldn't stand in the way of Lily's happiness.

The look of joy in Lily's eyes at his self-proclaimed pathetic attempts of persuasion was almost painfully blinding. Having grown up next to one another from childhood gave them a deeper connection to one another that almost no one else would ever understand. And because of that connection she knew how hard it had been for him to admonish her.

It was even more difficult to let her go into another man's arms. But holding on when he knew it was hopeless would destroy that bond, and he would do everything in his power to prevent that from happening again.

And now, with the prophecy he had just overheard and the sense of impending change it seemed it would bring, he knew he was about to find out just where his own life would lead. Though his reminiscences had take but seconds to flash through his mind, he felt as if the pause in the conversation had take longer than it should have. He cleared his throat and with a disparaging tone, he replied.

''Yes, I do remember saying something along those lines during my last year. However, knowing that Slughorn is contemplating his future retired life, and what everyone can see to be a lack of proficient Defense teachers over the years, I feel it necessary to my own conscience that someone of competence become the next professor to prepare the consequent generations in how not to get themselves killed, in either field.''

Dumbledore offered a jovial laugh. "Well that does speak something to your character my boy. I always knew you had a heart behind the cold exterior of yours. But of course you would, having made friends with your schoolboy enemies, all for the sake of your childhood friend."

A blinding smile was flashed his way and it was all Severus could do not to sneer at the accusation of friendship.

"I regret to inform you, Headmaster, but while I think of Lupin as a possible acquaintance, the other three I barely... tolerate."

And it was with a great deal of effort that Severus was able to afford such an admission. After the werewolf incident in his 7th year, he had taken up Lupin's offer of debt by using him as a test subject for his Wolfsbane experiment. Bi-monthly meetings that had begun during their final year had made them tolerable, friendly in some ways, towards one rest of the marauders and their civil interactions could barely be counted by hand.

Knowing the Headmaster would see what he wanted, and that it certainly could only help his chances, he allowed the statement to slip from his mouth. The headmaster gave another chuckle, sending the dangling star and moon bouncing up and down with his pointed hat. After another joint sip of tea, a grave look took over the headmaster's face, although that damnable twinkle was still there.

"Well, Severus, while I certainly do appreciate you coming all the way down here to have such a lovely chat with an old man like myself, it seems I have to deliver a bit of bad news now. You see, unfortunately, I have already hired the new DADA professor. But if, sometime next year, something also happens to cause this professor to be unable to continue I encourage you to come back and apply again."

Dumbledore set his teacup down, his expression tensing at the edges and smile becoming forced.

"As for Potions, while I know Professor Slughorn is beginning to get on in his years, he has not yet spoken with me about any thoughts of retiring. I must apologize if he gave you any such thoughts as to the Potions position being currently open.

"At the same time, despite what you have just told me, I think it would be best if you took your time in finishing your Potion's Mastery before taking up such a tedious job as teaching. You are still so young, Severus! There is no need to be tied down to this school at such a young age. Go and experience the world first!"

Dumbledore reached over to pat Severus' hand in what was meant to be comforting and encouraging, but simply felt patronizing.

Severus had known there was a relatively high chance that he would not be selected as a professor for Defence. But Potions were his forte, and becoming one of the youngest Masters in history meant that he had a wide range of opportunities to choose from. While not his first, teaching was a role he could fill easily, and he should have been chosen.

Dumbledore had side-stepped him completely. Slughorn had assured him that he would be retiring this year as soon as the Headmaster gave his approval. Had the man lied? And already having hired someone for the Defense position but still allowing him in for an interview... Severus felt his ire and frustrations boil.

"Headmaster, if I may be so bold, might I inquire as to who you've selected as the next Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor?"

Severus assumed it would most likely be another two-bit hack who couldn't find the back end of a wand just like all his own Defense teachers, but it was good to be informed.

"Certainly my boy! I must say, he is a certain acquaintance of your," and Dumbledore paused with a slight smile, "Despite what you might think, it is not simple weak-mindedness that is causing our constant rotation of professors, but a curse. Every year! Something or another happens to them and we have to hire another.

"The new professor I have selected is someone who claims he will be able to break this jinx. Remus Lupin was fairly persuading in his conviction that he could end this annual disaster-causing curse we have affecting our candidates for Defense. He has begun working on a counter-jinx and in order for him to have close access to the cursed location and better research facilities, I offered him the job. I do hope nothing happens to him though, such a sweet boy with such a terrible curse himself..."

As Dumbledore mumbled to himself about Remus' chances, Severus felt a certain pang of betrayal after hearing Lupin's name pass the headmaster's lips. Having been overlooked in favor of the werewolf, who himself was just as 'young' and 'inexperienced' as he was, created a painful welt along his usually secure pride in his abilities and accomplishments. He wondered if the old man even realized the amount of sophism and hypocrisy that poured from his lips.

As for his Lord's duplicity...

Severus gave a subtle shake of his head to clear such thoughts for later, pushing them and his growing rage back to the part of his heavily shielded mind currently housing the prophecy. He produced a false smile that turned out to be more of a grimace that could in no way cover the slight betrayal he was sure reflected from behind his mental shields. He held out his hand and gave a light quick shake in thanks to the Headmaster.

"I thank-you for the opportunity to speak with you and would request that you keep me in mind for any future openings at your school." Severus asked with a emotionless tone.

"I will endeavor to do so, Severus," Dumbledore replied cordially. "When Professor Slughorn does come to me in his request for retirement, you shall be at the top of my list, if you've finished you Mastery by then."

The final 'if' given by the headmaster was like adding bubortuber pus to the already festering wound in his pride. The lack of confidence from both the Headmaster and his Lord at attaining such an occupation as a Professor at Hogwarts... He gave a short bow in thanks and went to leave the room.

"Ah, Severus, let me walk you to the door. I'm set to return to Hogwarts myself now."

Dumbledore said as he pushed himself up from the table and began banishing the remaining dishes while Severus paused by the doorway.

In moments, the elderly man was placing a hand on the crook of Severus' arm to balance himself. Despite the anger he felt at being denied the position he had wanted, he still highly respected the man next to him and easily removed the urge to throw the arm off and storm away as they made their way down the creaking stairs of the old inn.

"Now, my dear boy, I was wondering if you could possible relay a message to Lily for me. I've been remiss in asking her to tea, and as an old man, my mind seems to slowly be melting out my ears in a puddle of lemon drops as I begin to forget everything around me. I'm afraid I might forget to send her a letter by the time I arrive back at the school. How is her new assignment at St. Mungo's coming along?"

"She's working with several Incurable patients under Healer Stout in the Janus Thickney ward for her Charms mastery."

"Ah, quite the laudable occupation. Is she attempting a Potions mastery as well?"

"No. She claims to have no need for further education in the subject." Severus sniffed pityingly at the thought of someone no longer needing to study potions.

"I'm sure it's because she has you for all her potions needs." Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, Severus, it has been lovely chatting with you. Please do come visit again soon. Maybe you, James and Lily can all come for tea and we'll see how everyone's Masteries are coming along."

As they exited the stairwell, Severus slowed his steps, remembering his promise to speak with Aberforth after his interview. About to politely attempt to part ways with the Headmaster who was pulling his arm towards the entrance, Aberforth called out to him.

"Sev'rus, a moment lad, if you will. Com'meer, Com'meer, I got something for you. Meant to pass it on the next time I saw you, but you never came 'round." Aberforth gave him a look over his spectacles, his sky blue eyes twinkling in understanding at his plight.

Momentarily saved from the man who was wreaking havoc with his self-control, he walked towards the counter where Aberforth was waiting. He was holding a long thin box in his gnarled hands, at which he beckoned Severus over to take a look inside.

Severus couldn't help the small stutter in his breath that passed his lips when he looked at was inside. His anger dissipated for the time being, he almost instantly began digging through the catalogue of potions ingredients in his mind and placing exactly what was inside that box.

"Hagrid first brought some o' this up from the forest a few months after you had left Hogwarts, claiming it to be some of the strangest snake skin he'd ever found, and needing a bit of help placing the creature and what not. I did a bit of research for him and it seems we've got a little Occamy takin' up residence in the Forbidden Forest.

"Ain't doin' no harm of course, seeing as it's still just a tiny thing if the skin is anything to go by, but the feathers Hagrid found mixed with the newer skins brought a bit of interest to the both of us. Thought you might like it for yer potions, so I asked him to save me some if he found more."

To say Severus was stunned when Aberforth place the small box in his hands was the least of the matter.

Normally only found in India or the warmer climates of the Far east, the Occamy was a rare snake-like reptile with soft, wing-like protrusions coming from its back, and two legs extending from its belly, allowing it to glide from treetops to capture prey much like a bird. The shed skin and feathers held bits of silver that normally swept across the snake's back in a diamond pattern, a natural by-product when the oils on their skin hardened.

It sold in the lower hundreds of galleons, normally by the gram, and was most commonly used for advanced healing and alchemical potions.

"Aberforth. I can't accept this. You could sell this and be well off for a decade at least." Severus could feel a slight strain in his voice at the thought of receiving such a gift, even if it was so obviously not because of charity.

"Consider it a present for yer up comin' Mastery. You make the Slytherin house proud, me boy, no matter where yer life takes you." Aberforth gave him a warm look. After a moment he gave an abrupt cough and spun around awkwardly, quickly returning to his dishes.

Severus felt a sense of calm flow into his chest at the reassurance. He would never openly admit it, hardly even to himself, but he was very glad to have been sorted into Slytherin and have met Aberforth. Many a Snake had come to the Hog's Head when in need of escape from the castle or an ear to listen when they couldn't go to Slughorn for Darker problems. The man had always been non-judgmental and gave sound advice in spite, or perhaps because of, his decidedly neutral stance on magic.

"Thank-you Aberforth. I appreciate the gift and will make sure you receive any other potions you might need in the future." Severus called to the man's back as he turned and continued back over to where Dumbledore was attempting to wait inconspicuously.

He was unobtrusively cleaning his glasses, but the shine in his eyes told Severus that he had overheard everything.

"I see you are friends with my brother, Severus. A good man, is he not?" Albus tone was warm, looking closely at his face as if searching for surprise at the revelation of their brotherhood.

What truly surprised Severus was the brush of Legillimens he felt, touching up against his deepest shields. It was behind those shields that he protected his darkest and most dangerous memories. They were also currently housing the prophecy and quite a bite of his rage.

The probing was skillful and he most likely wouldn't have noticed if not for the trigger his Lord had placed within his mind. He was extremely grateful, then, for the Dark Lord's tutelage in the mind arts. The art was extremely difficult to master, and he was unfortunately not yet perfect. Because of this, his Lord had added several contingent counter-measures to help him ward off a Legilimens attack.

He was disconcerted by Dumbledore's boldness, but thankfully the shock was only on his surface thoughts, and Dumbledore was unaware, deep within his mind. Having no wish for them man to learn that he knew what was happening, he set off a trigger that released several memories from behind the heavy shields to placate the man.

Relating them back to his earlier question he whipped together a cloud filled with memories of speaking to Aberforth about his home life and his father along with his resentment at being rejected by the Headmaster for the position.

By releasing memories for the man to view rather than letting nothing pass the almost impenetrable walls, he was able to play on what he assumed would be a Dumbledore who thought he had yet to learn proper Occlumency. Feeling the man slip from his mind, he was grateful that it had worked and planned to quickly get away in order to lock his mind up tighter than before.

"He is a great man," Severus put simply, before holding the door open for the headmaster to leave.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some random notes you can ignore:
> 
> I always enjoyed that strong bond of trust between Dumbledore and Severus, but unfortunately, that bond isn't possible for this story. So I built one between Severus and Dumbledore's brother instead, because I wanted to try to keep that pure sense of faith from the original story.
> 
> And hopefully I didn't totally destroy your sense of what Severus is normally like, but the first major change is that he is obviously still friends with Lily, which in the original story was a major reason behind his angry and hateful demeanor. So that won't be as strong in the story, but he is hopefully still going to be the sarcastic and snide Snape we all known and love in future chapters. He just happened to be dealing with someone he actually likes this chapter and thus is a bit... softer, shall we say.
> 
> I also really enjoyed a scene from the fic Death of Today where Voldie is explaining to Izar/Harry that you cannot remove your emotions, and that Voldie himself does actually feel things, he just doesn't show them. I like this thought that the Slytherins do feel things under their mask, and since this part of the story is from Severus' point of view, I'm giving you a look at the feelings under his mask.
> 
> And Dumbles will not be Super!EVIL!Dumbles, so I apologize if he might have come off like that. I'm having a bit of trouble wrapping my mind around his character, because he IS manipulative, but in a caring, annoying, 'for the better good' type of manipulative. He doesn't think he's wrong, but he knows others might perceive it that way and is trying to come off as subtly omnipotent. He is a Lord after all. Gah, I'll work harder on him I promise.
> 
> Finally the (1) that was back there is borrowed from Goblin Cat K.C.'s Oath Breaker. I love that line..
> 
> Anyways, thank-you for reading! Please let me know what you think of this chapter! I like reviews, but watches or even just hits will make me happy as well, thus motivating me! The next chapter is technically written, but our Lovely Lord Voldemort debuts in it, more so than he did in this chapter, and I am very unhappy with how.. giggly I accidentally made him. So he is getting a major bit of a re-write. I'm currently training a new teacher at work as well, so I will have a bit less free time than I used to. But sometime in the next month or two, I hope!


	3. A Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy! I hope you like my Voldemort~

Enjoy!

* * *

Striking a pace that would leave others stumbling in his wake to catch up, Severus made his way through the grand corridors that filled the West wing of Malfoy Manor. He had been greeted in the entry hall by a house elf after apparating from Hogsmeade, and was informed that his Lord and the Master of the house were waiting for his arrival in the main study.

Brushing a quick hand through his long hair with a sigh, he swept past room after room, calming his mind and locking up the less savory emotions that he did not wish to deal with at the moment. His normally calm demeanor was still ruffled from earlier interactions with the Headmaster, and that fact was irritating him further. He needed to organize his thoughts for a meeting with the Dark Lord. It was never a good idea to find oneself unprepared in the presence of such a powerful man.

The tranquility of Occlumency shields settled within his mind like a balm and his facial muscles eased from their tense lines into a stony mask, presented to the silver and blue decked hallway that was lined with portraits of Malfoys past, painted primped and proper in their luxuriously frames. As he reached the diamond encrusted extravagance that held the more recently deceased Abraxas Malfoy, he felt nothing.

Joy, anger, betrayal; the emotions of earlier that had been afflicted upon him by both Dumbledore brothers were gone. The Occamy skin and feathers he had received were tucked away into a pocket for future perusal, a tin of lemon drops that had been forced upon him at the Headmaster's parting was burned to ashes in the wind, and the small niggling sense of duplicity that said he was not, in fact, favored by the Dark Lord was locked tightly away to be dealt with when he had time to handle it in an appropriate manner. It was not moments later that his long strides brought him to the entrance of the office ahead.

The knocking of his fist echoed in the silent the hallway. To any other being, the door that slowly crept forward in response to the sound would be an ominous sight, but the sense of his Lord's heavy magic swirling and washing out of the room caused him to relax unconsciously as he moved closer. With knees bent and head bowed accordingly, his right fist pressed tightly to his left shoulder, Severus portrayed the image of a knight acknowledging the glory of his king.

"My Lord, I have returned."

Even as he spoke, his eyes swept what little of the room he could see through the strands of long hair dangling down the sides of his face. He noted the position of his Lord and the Lord Malfoy, and that the only entrance and exit within the room was the door through which he had just come, before settling on his own pointed black shoe.

″Join us, Severus, please.″

The voice that spoke his name was low and melodious, a pleasurable sense to his ears that was echoed by the Dark magic swirling through the room. A mockingly humorous enunciation portrayed the 'please' in his command, as if the Dark Lord was offering some level of respect by allowing his follower a choice.

Many servants believed they were being favored, beginning their rise through the ranks, whenever their Lord offered such pleasantries. But it was never a choice, and it was in no way a sign of respect. Severus knew it was simply an expedient, often used to keep his more prideful servants happily bowing at the other man's feet. When his Lord spoke to him in such tones, he took it with a grain of salt, unaffected by such petty games as rank. The Dark Lord knew this and seemed to take an odd pleasure in continuing to plague him with such methods.

Heeding the command for what it was, Severus stood gracefully, and spotted a third chair angled towards the mahogany desk at which the Lord Malfoy sat. As he settled himself, his eyes roamed over the room more thoroughly, from the stately furniture shaded in the Malfoy colors and dark wood, to the fireplace in which a white flame was burning, cooling the room from the late summer's heat. It was then he noticed a flicker from the portrait located above the fireplace, an eagle-eyed Abraxas Malfoy slipping into the frame, no doubt curious as to the meeting being held within his old office.

Glancing at the background of the man's portrait, his eyes compared the extravagant duplication of the room and desk at which the current Lord was sitting. The painted office reflected what it had always been when he had visited Lucius in his Hogwarts days. Not much had changed in its pompous presentation, despite Abraxas Malfoy having passed away several years earlier.

Lucius sat in the same dark wood desk, long platinum blond hair pulled back in a black ribbon that no other man could ever hope to wear with such masculine grace. Icy blue robes were draped across his tall frame, and the silver cloak adorning the chair he was seated in accentuated the pale aristocratic features and startlingly sharp grey eyes. He was surrounded by elegant vases, rare, antiquated books and delicately carved shelves that held golden plaques of his achievements.

His mentor from Hogwarts and, dare he say it, friend, was just as proud of his family's fortune and reputation in high society as all previous generations had been, if not more so. And he used that arrogance to his gain as he rose through the ranks of the ministry.

After graduating from Hogwarts in Severus' 4th year, Lucius Malfoy had begun building himself a foundation, a shining star bursting its way into the political ring with little guidance from his father. When the elder Malfoy patriarch had contracted Dragon Pox, a contagious but normally curable disease that had unfortunately been discovered too late, the younger Malfoy took up the mantle of Lord in a whirlwind of political maneuvers and underhanded favors.

His genius when it came to the world of politics and manipulation secured his placement in the Ministry with an unshakable foundation. After his father's passing, it was only solidified further, and had allowed him to rise through the ranks of the Dark Lord's followers to the point where many whispered rumors had begun circulating, claiming he had become the Lord's right hand man.

Severus, on the other hand, did not need rumors to hint at what he knew to be fact. It was his own connection to the 24-year old Lord that had brought him into the fold, and given him his chance to prove his own way into the Dark Lord's graces, and that made him privy to particularly delicate information. But all that seemed to be falling apart around him with the news he would have to present to his Lord today.

Unable to look at the Dark Lord just yet, his eyes fell to the three dimensional map spread before him on the desk, showing a mountainous landscape of rocking terrain. Small miniature buildings and pieces were scattered sparsely, along with a small sickly green motif of the Dark Lord's mark. Lucius' long and nimble fingers were dancing across the map, wand in hand, altering small details of the panorama or moving a small figure across the cartographical mountain.

He knew it was a map of an upcoming raid for a rumored mining camp in the Romanian wilderness. According to their source, werewolves were vanishing from various clans around the magical world. It was still unknown as to who, exactly, was behind the disappearances, but they had been undoubtedly suspicious. After an espionage team had been sent after them, it had been confirmed that the instances were not a matter of runaways, but seizure.

The various ministries seemingly couldn't care less at the tips offs and complaints that had been brought to them. Thus, the collection of information and planning for the release of the abducted werewolves, as well as their return to civilization, had been taking place these last few months by the Dark Lord's servants. The man was somewhat excited by the possibility of gaining new followers in exchange for their freedom, and had taken a hand in planning the raid personally.

The original report had, surprisingly, been provided by one of Severus' connections, in thanks to his ongoing experiments with the wolfsbane potion. When Lupin had come to him with a desperate apology for the attack that had occurred in their 6th year, Severus, not one to miss taking advantage of an opportunity, had offer him the chance of becoming his test subject for the experimental wolfsbane potion he was working on. It had quickly become a trade of mutual gratification, and one of the reasons he had been able to proceed so quickly with his Mastery.

During one of their consultation meetings, Remus had spoken to him while experiencing the lingering lucid after effects of the previous night's full moon. Despite his lack of interest in werewolf culture, he had listened to his guinea pig ramble while he cast diagnostic spells. The other man had revealed that several mysterious disappearances had occurred from werewolf clans across Europe. He had confessed his worry for his own pack, and where to and why he thought they were disappearing. When Severus had brought the information to the Dark Lord's attention, he was told to bring the werewolf to meet with him.

Severus had crafted a carefully worded invitation to meet with a benefactor, his Lord, and an offer of help from 'an acquaintance'. With such far reaching corruption surrounding the disappearances, the only other person Lupin could have possibly turned to was the leader of the Order of the Phoenix. Even with the well-known secret of the Headmaster's vigilante group, the Dark Lord had told him that Dumbledore would rather have little to nothing to connect him politically with the werewolves.

Werewolves were looked down upon by the Ministry and society as monsters that needed to be controlled with limited rights. While the headmaster had surely taken a risk in protecting Lupin while he had been in school, it was only because his infection was an absolute secret from the government.

Any official help on Dumbledore's part would damage the man's reputation and sway as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. The man would most likely listen to Lupin's plea of help with a smile and a nod of his head, but he would do nothing to help even if he could. It wasn't difficult to believe, as the same routine had often happened with Severus.

Lupin had been hesitant, unknowing as to who exactly he was meeting at first, due to the concealed face of the Dark Lord. He had attended several meetings with the man, the contents of which Severus did not know. It wasn't until Severus had been asked to join one of their meetings, that he knew the Dark Lord was revealing himself. When he was asked to remove his mask as well, Lupin's shocked expression has oddly turned into one of relief.

No sooner had he met Lupin's eyes than the werewolf had accepted the mark of the Death Eaters, promising his loyalty to the man in exchange for helping his people. His first mission began soon after, collecting more in depth information and reporting about the disappearances and their possible end location.

If the raid was successful, they would be rescuing a large group of possible followers, ones who would be strong and fierce in their fighting. Looking at the detail of the miniature replication of the mountain spread in front of Lucius, it was obvious Lupin had finished his task. It was even more obvious, to Severus, what his next assignment had been.

Feeling a spark of emotion from behind his Occlumency shields at the thought of Lupin's advancement, his mind was turned back to the troublesome information he would need to relay to his Lord. Having been reluctantly avoiding being pulled in by the man's magic, black eyes moved towards the other's form.

Severus' sight flowed from the shiny, pointed black boots, up long legs stretched before him, to the torso robed in a dark forest green, before settling on the Dark Lord fully. He was seated in a relaxed position, fingers splayed along the side of his face. His head was propped at an angle, a few monochrome curls cast into dark navy eyes. A red flicker passed through them, shading his eyes in purple and belaying the glamor that covered his eyes and face.

It was always odd for Severus to see his Lord in the guise of an older wizard. While not yet in the image of the elderly looking Dumbledore, it was a mask of salt and pepper hair framing the pale face of what Tom Riddle would looked like if he had actually aged. The mask was a defense meant for the public, one that worked well at times, giving him the appearance of experienced and knowledgeable, and therefore trustworthy, wizard. Since the glamour was still in place he assumed his Lord had come from the Ministry only recently, and hadn't bothered to take it down.

During most of his interactions with the Dark Lord, there were no glamours to cover the dark chestnut braid that fell just past the man's shoulders, nor the deep red eyes that signaled a man well-versed in the Darkest of Arts. Before his followers eyes, he was Lord Voldemort, the leader of the militarized group known as the Death Eaters. An aquiline nose, thin lips and smooth, blemish-free skin fleshed out the sculpted face that could persuade his mass of followers into almost anything Tom Marvolo Riddle could possibly want.

No one had ever questioned their master's unageing visage, but whispers floated about, time and again, hinting at a successful experiment on immortality, possibly in concurrence to his alliance with several vampire clans. In addition to his looks, his charismatic voice and gift for speeches provided him with far more open paths in the magical world than any other could hope to achieve. Which was nothing next to the amount of pure power he exuded and kept about him like a second cloak.

Purple-tinted navy eyes met his own dark black, and he felt a curl of his Lord's magic slip light about his neck in the shape of a noose. A pleasant adrenaline-filled shiver cause his muscles to twitch slightly before the magic was once again twirling away.

″How is Dumbledore these days, Severus? I take it the interview went well? You've returned later than I was expecting.″

Severus felt his gut wrench slightly at his Lord's slyly worded presumption, and bowed his head respectfully, hoping to lessen any punishment he might receive.

"Dumbledore is.. unchanged from my time at Hogwarts, my Lord." He paused for a moment, organizing his thoughts once more in the split-second moment of rest he gave himself. "The interview was unsuccessful."

The lazy magic that had been floating in the room seemed to stop, and Lucius, who was still seated behind his desk and had been focusing on the map in front of him, stayed his hand and looked up. The echoed thumps of his heart beat in his ears,surpassing the sound of heavy ticks from the grandfather clock along the wall to his right. Severus' fear pushed through his shields and rose rapidly in tandem with his beating heart. He had to force himself to continue if there was any hope to delay the inevitable punishment.

″My Lord, there was also a prophecy.″

Severus kept his back straight despite his half bowed head, eyes cast respectfully towards the Dark Lord's feet. He held himself still, forcibly slowing his thudding heart into making no sound save for his near silent breathing. It was an unconscious attempt to draw less attention than was already focused upon his person, a remnant from days long past.

The crumpling sound of shifted papers broke the silence, forcing his attention to Lucius as he moved the map about, folding it slowly and stacking it with several other files and papers. Dark eyes lifted slightly to meet emotionless silver, before the other man's head moved away from his direction.

"My Lord, if I may, we can finish our discussion of the map later. Let me call for some tea." As the Malfoy Lord flourished his cane in an attempt to summon a house elf, the Dark Lord raised his hand and gave him pause.

"Explain," came the silky inflection, unchanged in melody, but undoubtedly chilled and directed solely at him. Severus could feel his body wanting to tense in anticipation of a curse, but again he forcibly relaxed himself. His tone belied nothing of the wariness locked behind his shields as he pushed his words forward.

″I happened to overhear the prophecy in the Hogshead, and I believe it pertains to you. The Headmaster was interviewing a descendant of Cassandra Trewlany for the Divination position before my own interview. And I was not informed until the end that both positions I had applied for were unavailable, according to Dumbledore," he tacked on to the end, hoping in spite of hope that his punishment for failure would be reasonable.

The magic that had been frozen in the air began swirling as Voldemort's voice rumbled deeply once more.

″Interesting...″

Strands of Severus' hair shifted, startling him for a second time, as a coil of the Dark Lord's magic brushed against his crown. It was almost as if the man were patting him on the head for a job well done, a pet, and Severus was both pleased that the Dark Lord no longer seemed angry at him, and mildly disgusted with himself as he felt the tension relax from his body at the touch.

"You mentioned tea, Lucius, did you not?"

His Lord's focus moved towards the Malfoy patriarch, whose wand was once more spinning through the air.

"Dobby!"

After a moment, a tiny squeaking voice came from an even tinier house elf. It was no larger than a house cat, but far skinnier, dressed in a small, silk toga made from a pillowcase. With knobbly green knees and long spindly fingers, everything about it seemed too big for its body, including great bulbous eyes that popped from the thing's head and stared up at it's master reverently.

"Yes Masters Malfoy sir! What's Dobby can brings for Masters Malfoy's guest and the Greats Dark Lord, sir?"

"A tea service, using the new blend Narcissa sent from the Eastern provenance.″ The house elf continued staring at the Malfoy Lord, wide-eyed. ″Quickly!" Lucius barked the order, making the small green body jump to attention, bounding into the air at a height almost level to the desk.

When it disappeared, Lucius gave a sigh and a glance towards Severus. "A newborn, already two months old, and still it doesn't respond with proper urgency." The silver blond hair shifted as he shook his head in distaste.

"Speaking of newborns, how is your lovely wife, Lucius? I've heard she moved off to your French Villa the moment her pregnancy was confirmed." Their Lord's tone was once more amused, and Severus could not tell if it was faked, or if the Dark Lord was truly as relaxed as he seemed to be.

Belaying a confidence of position that Severus could never hope to replicate, Lucius replied in an exasperated tone, "She's barely over a month and a half along and already complaining of aches and pains. She further refuses to be seen by polite society while she is in the shape of 'a large walrus', according to her own words."

The house elf appeared again quietly, a large silver tea service floating next him with steam billowing from the tall silver pot. It floated out to rest on the desk where the map had once laid, before three teacups began pouring and stirring themselves. As Lucius fingers wrapped around his cup, Severus noted how flustered the man must be by thoughts of his wife when he unthinkingly took a sip before the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord, however, simply offered a smirk in his direction. ″Was it not you who helped them confirm, Severus? What is your opinion of the child's development so far?″

″Indeed, I was the one who brewed the potion for Narcissa last week. As I'm sure Lucius has already told you, I was able to establish the Summer Solstice as the date of conception. I am sure they will be an impressive follower for you in the future, my Lord, to be conceived on a day of such power.″ Severus spoke of his future godchild thoughtfully. The brat would no doubt be spoiled rotten by his parents, but he would do his best to make the child turn out decent.

"And just what is my future, Severus?"

When he looked up quickly at the question, a glint of dark humor reflected back at him from navy eyes.

"You claim I have become the subject of a prophecy professed by Sybill Trewlawny, a cad of a seer who is well known for her fraudulence. What is it that makes you so sure this time is true? I do hope you were not simply distracted by preparations for your own interview."

As the Dark Lord spoke, Severus' thoughts began to float as his sight grew fuzzy and the lighting around him seemed to dim. His heart picked up a rapid pace and his muddled mind brought forth the thought that such constant, sudden changes of tempo couldn't possibly be good for his body.

The Dark Lord had leaned over, his eyes catching and holding Severus' as the only clear point of focus in the room. They were an enchanting shade of royal purple bleeding into red, mesmerizing him. It felt like he was spinning and swimming at the same time. His head was too heavy to hold up at a proper angle as the whites of his eyes rolled up. Something lurched and tighten, be it in his mind or his magic he didn't know, but he found himself repeating the first phrase of the ominous revelation he had heard earlier.

"The One with the power to vanquish Lords,

Will be born as the seventh month dies."

The oppressive air or his Lord's magic suited his retelling of the prophecy, and it felt as if he were back in the hallway. He could almost hear the sound of thunder rumbling overhead and see the door through which he had peeked. The sight of a shaking hand reaching to open the door wider, to hear more, caused him to flinch, as he realized that the gasping chest and shuddering hands were his own.

The first time he had overheard the prophecy, he simply recorded the conversation into his mind, shoving it behind his shields. He had needed to prepare himself for a double edged talk with the headmaster, which overpowered his curiosity for deduction. But now, hearing it for the second time with a longer chance to think, he realized what was being said.

His Lord was being threatened. The decades of progress the Death Eaters had made should the Dark Lord fall were being threatened. And with such vague wording, it could lead to anyone who held the title Lord being threatened, which included his friend Lucius. As independent as he was in his own life, there was little in the way of restitution for the dark that he or any other could accomplish without the two people he held in the highest regard leading the way. It was a suitably terrifying feeling, this realization..

A fist slammed loudly on wood, and Severus' head snapped up from where it had shakily fallen forward, his eyes meeting those of a startled Lucius.

″A threat to the Lords of the Families? From a yet unborn child? Preposterous!″ came a shout from over the fireplace, where a previously silent Abraxas sat, his hand curled on his painted desk tightly.

With the sudden interruption, it was as if a switched had turned of in his mind, and Severus realized that his lost composure and twitching form had been caused by his Lord. Such a flood of rich Dark magic was the only explanation for the mixture of pain and pleasure now roiling through his skull.

″Is that all Severus? Just two lines?″

A surprisingly soft voice came from the Dark Lord, but he could hear the steel fleshed in velvet. The Dark Lord's spell, or trance, or whatever had just happened, had been interrupted and the man was impatient to continue. Giving himself no chance to be affected by such magic for a second time, he spoke willingly.

″No my Lord, that was only the first part. It continues.

The One with the power to vanquish the Lords

Will be born as the seventh month dies...

The One shall be marked equal by the Dark Lord

The Other shall mark Him inferior...

And He will have power they know naught...

And all may die at the hands of the Other...

For the Lords cannot live while the Other survives...

For the oath will fade unless Three are revived...

The One with the power to vanquish the Lords

Will be born as the seventh month dies..."

His voice trailed off, mind whirling through different possibilities of what it might mean, now that he had the time to truly think. As the reality of the prophecy began to sink in, the shaking in his hands drifted away. The magic in the room, however, did not return to its natural pace. He could feel it ebbing and swirling through the room like the tide, heavy in its power.

"Finally..."

The word was a quiet sigh, one that couldn't have been heard save for the current shocked silence. His eyes rose towards the man who spoke, and stopped Severus thoughts in their track.

Before him, the Dark Lord sat in all his glory, magic rampaging about him silently. His power flowed at such a speed that a dark colored rainbow of sparks could be seen bounding about him like fairies, visible ropes of magic crashed around one another. Within the whirlwind of magic, the glamour encasing his face was fading, peeling off like dead flesh as the magic ripped by. His hair fluttered about him as if brushed with a soft wind, several strands fluttering across a terrifyingly gleeful smirk, but were unable to hide the blood red eyes that pierced through Severus core.

"I wish to see this prophecy for myself, Severus."

The deep baritone faded into a hiss at his name, oddly remnant of the snake language his Lord used with his pets. Pinned in place by the sight of ruby eyes, it was all he could do not to flinch back at the probing touches of legilimency. But they did not tear through his shields as had been expected, the magic as wild as it was. Instead they were light, teasing touches that were enjoying the slight fear sparked with each pass.

As they brushed minds, the man's pale hand waved in the air and a very odd looking house elf appeared. It had pale green skin and was dressed in a small crisp, clean suit and hat. Its back was straight, not cowering before its master like every other house elf Severus had ever seen. Held in its large spindly hands was a grey stone basin, runes and images etched along the rim. From the corner of his eyes, he could see it was a pensieve. It handed the pensieve to its master, before disappearing silently. With a motion that suggested he should be offering up the memory, now, the Dark Lord floated the stone container onto the desk between them.

Despite the obvious demand from his Lord, Severus hesitated for the slightest of moments. Sharing memories was an extremely intimate experience; one shared everything. From the outside forces such as temperature and climate, to the minute emotional fluxes that came along with everyday exchanges, the person viewing the memory would see and feel them all, just as the person from whom the memories originated. The irrational anger and jealousy that he had momentarily experienced at being overlooked for the werewolf, who was chosen not only by Albus Dumbledore but his Lord for a mission he had thought of as solely his own, was not something he wished to be known.

He knew he was but a piece on a vast game board, being moved about by the high-ranked players. He was not powerful enough, smart enough, as politically connected nor inclined as those who considered themselves to be in control of the magical world. It was that logical knowledge that made his continued enmity so irrational, and he was beginning to despise himself for it. He had the highest confidence in himself in all areas of his life, but when it came to his Lord, he was always left grasping, trying to rise higher in his Lord's esteem. Claim as he might to be above rank, there was still pleasure to be taken from being a favored servant.

Covering his hesitation as concentration, he followed a breathing exercise the Dark Lord had taught him when he had first begun learning Occlumency, and sank deep into his mind. He had only been a student of the Dark Lord for little more than a year, and consequently was not yet able to smoothly control the shields containing his deeper thoughts, much less those at his core, while still maintaining a conversation.

As he brought his innermost safeguards down, he marveled at the Dark Lord's power. He could feel the paths the man had taken with his magic in order to force the repetition of the prophecy. There were a few tears in his mind, easily fixable as he passed them over, but the memory of the prophecy was still in perfect condition, glowing like a bonfire in the dark. His wand brushed his temple as he thought back to the moment he arrived at the inn. He figured the Dark Lord would appreciate more than just the moment of the prophecy, if an instance occurred were other important factors that had gone unnoticed by himself.

Memories of his day flowed rapidly through his mind. Once again, he fleetingly felt the sense of foreboding that had followed him up the path through Hogsmeade, and a flash of the shock at stumbling across a Seer in-trance. When a surge of anger passed through him, he realized he had gone as far as the interview and hastily stopped the memory. A silvery strand had coiled its way from his temple to his wand and softly fell into the pensieve like a feather, before settling into a liquid pool of reflection.

Having opened his eyes, he noticed his Lord's magic had finally calmed, leaving only a static spark flashing here and there as red eyes stared at his face, fascinated. Lucius' contemplating look, directed at him, told him that his expressions had been unwittingly showing from behind his mask as he had pulled the memory. His pride's only salvation was that Lucius would not be viewing the memory alongside the Dark Lord.

"Would you care to join me, Lucius?

But of course, in all his life, his luck had never held out for quite so long. The Dark Lord was indeed a punishing master, even if unknowingly.

"Of course, my Lord, I would be most honored."

The bone white wand of his Lord edged its way towards the swirling memory, as the incredibly long elm was pulled from Lucius' cane. As they fell into the memory, their faces bled of any tension and became emotionless figures. Severus felt his tense shoulders relax minutely, as he was no longer being judged by crimson eyes.

Had it been... joy that edged the Dark Lord's voice when requesting the prophecy memory? Severus pondered the lines about Lords and his mind immediately brought forth the image of the Dark Lord as reference. Any human being would surely become distressed after hearing the the foretelling of their destruction. Could the Dark Lord have truly become immortal, as the rumors so boldly claimed?

There were far too many weaknesses when it came to a newly changed vampire, and that fragility was around for a century at minimum, according to his studies. His Lord couldn't afford such weakness, which deemed the thought impossible. Any other forms of immortality were so convoluted or ancient that there was little anyone could do to complete such theoretical rituals. However, his master was confident in the face of Death, and there was nothing Severus could see that pointed as to why.

Surely it was not because the Dark Lord thought it didn't apply to him? The plural of the word might lean towards the fact that there was more than one, but the last Dark Lord, Grindelwald, had been killed by Dumbledore in the war. Could there be another 'Dark Lord' somewhere in the world? Severus couldn't fathom it. It was simply a title that his master had claimed privately. Voldemort was not, in fact, apart of the Lords of the Families; the only group which truly held the formal title to their names.

In the past, the Lords of the Families had been a gathering of witches and wizards who worked together and made decisions for the benefit of the magical world. Today, they made up the inherited seats of the government's legislative branch, the Wizengamot. Positions were only granted to a pureblood heir of the long standing families.

As far as Severus knew, despite being the last descendant alive to claim the title of Slytherin and its property, the political mask of Tom Riddle had been unable to claim a Lord's seat. Severus did not know why, but had guessed that the seat had been removed after Slytherin left Hogwarts 1000 years ago. Instead, after graduating from Hogwarts, the young Dark Lord had campaigned to the public and was elected to a lower seat. Soon after, he had begun interacting with and gathering like-minded Lords into his collection of servants.

The wording of the prophecy was far too vague to decided what 'Lords' were being spoken of. It would be a question to leave for the Dark Lord, rather than following the unending loop of who, exactly, was being threatened. Various pronouns and other monikers mentioned throughout the prophecy would be easier to decode with his own knowledge.

As the only straightforward line, 'the One' was most likely referring to an as of yet unborn child. Alongside that, the seventh month's death would refer to the end of July. When the average wizarding pregnancy lasted between 11 and 12 months, the child would be conceived within the coming month, if it hadn't been already. A child powerful enough to vanquish Lords would surely need as much time as possible invitro to build their magical core.

The thought momentarily occurred to Severus that Lucius and Narcissa's child could be whom the prophecy was referring to. But no pregnancy Severus had ever heard of had lasted into a 13th month, which was what would be required of Narcissa. It was more likely to kill them both than to produce a magically powerful child. Their brat was out of the equation, no doubt being birthed sometime next May or June.

Most wizards waited until times of power to fornicate in hopes of producing more magically powerful children, much like the Malfoys had. Seeing as the harvest day of Lammas had just ended two days prior on the 1st of August, the possibilities were endless. But having a small social circle, no larger than his potion related acquaintances, Lucius, Lily and her Marauders, there were few he could think to be with child.

Lily had mentioned a Junior Healer whom she worked under, Longbottom if he remembered correctly. She had recently been gushing on about their attempts to conceive. Lady Longbottom's husband was a well renowned Auror, and a powerful one, from a long line of Light purebloods who excelled in the field of combative magic. If Lily's gossip were true, that would be one child he may need to keep an eye out for.

On the other hand, Lily had spoken with him at their last tea together about also wanting a little boy or girl running about some time in the future. She claimed her 'biological clock', or some other such muggle nonsense, was nudging her in that direction, but Severus found such a statement hard to believe.

Most wizards lived much longer lives than their muggle counterparts, by several decades at least. Children were birthed between the ages of 20 and 60 with no adverse effects, so Severus had claimed that if this 'alarm' was going off already, she would either be grey or hairless with the number of children she'd be popping out for the next half-century. Lily had laughed and agreed, claiming that both James and herself were not quite ready just yet. They were much too busy to be starting a family.

Severus felt a part of his anxiety relax, knowing his childhood friend would not be at risk for whatever ire the Dark Lord might hold for this child. But they would be 'marked as equal by the Dark...'

He was pulled from further thought as movement came from around the pensieve, the Dark Lord and Lucius both returning their wands to their respective places. Lucius' eyes glanced quickly towards and away from him, instantly putting him on edge. They had viewed the memory to the very end, and he had not been fast enough in editing the interview from his memory. There was a look of cold understanding on the Dark Lord's face as he reseated himself, and Severus wondered when he would be punished for his failure.

″We will discuss your mission later, Severus. First, I feel it prominent to share with you... information of a rather delicate nature.″

Severus' focus was immediately on long slender fingers brushing the dark brown braid that had been revealed over his shoulder.

″You must both understand the seriousness of what you are about to become involved in. As a gift for you, my dear Severus, I grant you another chance to prove yourself before my eyes after this failure.″

Said eyes were icy cold as they stared in his direction, and Severus felt his shoulders dip and head bow forward in a stance of submissive acceptance. He was grateful for the chance to repair his blunder.

″What I am to tell you does not leave this room. I am giving you both a chance with ... my trust.″ The Dark Lord gave a throaty chuckle, and emotionless red eyes bled into dark humor, filled with anticipation and promises as to what would happen should his 'trust' be broken.

″In spite of your youth and the doubt that your elders will surely have, you two will be the only ones to fully help in this matter. That excludes you, Abraxas, my old friend.″

Without a glance toward the painting, a hand was raised and a shot of purple light surrounded the frame, banishing the portrait from the room with what was most likely an extremely protective secrecy spell.

Voldemort waved vaguely towards the pensive, leaving Severus a moment to take back his memory, and took a sip from the delicate bone china tea cup that had been set aside earlier. As the memory was replaced, Severus settled his shields into the back of his mind, securely locking the prophecy behind the strongest occlumency wards he could manage.

The still healing pathways that had been made by the Dark Lord's intrusion lit up once more as he felt the other man's magic flit through. There was no pain this time, but a light prodding of his personal shields left a magical vibration streaming through his mind. It solidify into a second shield, an impenetrable defence. Of course the Dark Lord would want to reinforce the shield for such important information, no matter what Severus's ability might be.

″Very good, Severus.″

His occlumency teacher murmured before turning back to a book that Severus hadn't noticed in his concentration. He was thrown off slightly by the praise, having expected a mocking anger at his affront, or at least the cold surveillance of earlier. Every reaction from the Dark Lord was confusing him today, but he delighted in the praise reluctantly, for such moments had been far and few between in his short life.

″Despite what you might think,″ his Lord began, flipping through the old, brown book, ″This prophecy does not preclude my downfall, nor the downfall of the House of Lords. It is, in fact, a predecessor to my final ascendance. We are about to reach the final stage in our fight against the Light.″

The Dark Lord spoke with such a simple tone, that it took a moment for Severus to wrap his mind around the statement. Lucius on the other hand, had eyes glowing wide in the firelight, silver flecks of ice melting into liquid mercury, excitement filling his aura.

"But first, we need to have a little history book here," he lifted the brown book that had sat in his lap, "was written by Salazar Slytherin. It was passed to me in my 6th year of Hogwarts. Despite many years of my youth spent traveling and researching, it is still the most detailed text I have been able to find to date on the workings of magic. However it is not something that can be shared with the common public; not even with most of my followers. Rather than a book of research, you could say it is a guide meant for only 3 people."

Snapping the book closed suddenly, the Dark Lord sat up straighter with a smirk on his face.

"Some of my more prideful servants seem to think the title of Lord is a moniker I've given myself in arrogance. But I am quite justified in my taking of such a label." His fingers stroked the side of his tea cup, circling the rim delicately. "The title of Dark Lord is not self-selected but bestowed upon me Magic itself."

Severus had to take a moment to process that claim. Magic? Magic had given a title to a wizard? Magic had somehow communicated? He felt his mind running itself in a fit of circular logic as to how something that had always been simply an element that existed in his life was somehow sentient.

If magic could somehow think for itself, he couldn't even begin to imagine the horror that could be ravaged on mankind, should it choose to do so. Humans alone, when given free reign of something like magic, had threatened to destroy each other every other decade. Even without it, the muggles were doing a damned good job with the power of their technology. And if magic were to be influenced or persuaded on a large scale... But it couldn't be sentient... could it?

A glint of wicked humor flickered in the Dark Lord's eyes at the realization the must have been reflected in his face. Magic was suddenly whipping through the room, curling about Severus's limbs as if it were going to restrain him tightly to his chair. Severus jumped, startled by the oversensory of his own psychological imagination being pushed too far.

The Dark Lord's face grinned in pleasure at his fear before the tendrils swept away. From the corner of his eyes he could see Lucius was in a just as startled state as himself, and felt a mild twinge of gratefulness that he was not the only one his master was playing with.

"Magic is not sentient if that is what you seem so fearful of, Lucius, Severus." The Dark Lord's hand raised in the air, passing through a breeze of magical sparks that swirled past him, as if petting a cat.

"It does have a sense of awareness to the point of self preservation. Very little in this world is made to function in a self-destructive way.. with the exceptions of humans that is." He gave a dark chuckle that sent shivers up Severus's spine.

"Magic does not have the ability to make decisions that affect the flow of humanity, the world or itself, and it cannot truly destroy or create anything. It simply gives power to those who deserve it. As to who deserves it, that would of course be wizards.

"Some amongst those who receive this power are chosen as rulers, Lords of Magic, who are given an excessive amount of access to it. As I learned in my youth, there are 3 different Lords that exist. The Dark, the Light, and what Salazar referred to as the Grey. The term Dark Lord is a position I earned, and have since dedicated myself to." Long, pale fingers stroked the edge of the text as the Dark Lord stared down at it studiously.

"But who is the Light Lord? And the Grey Lord? This is the first I've heard of the terms."

Red eyes glanced in Lucius's direction with a twitch of his lips.

"Surely you know the answer to that already, dear Lucius. Think."

"Dumbledore."

Severus voice was quiet, but clear and confident in its statement.

"And what has led you to this conclusion, Severus?" His named was hissed off in a breathy chuckle.

"His power. It's… awe-inspiring. And his influence. He has much more power than just magic. Others might think of him as a bygone hero or a grandfatherly old man, but he has ruled the wizarding world from behind the Minister, the Wizengamot and the youth of the wizarding world. I've never heard the term before, but it fits..."

His voice was choppy in his realizations as each piece of evidence increased his fear at the thought of one man having such influential power. He remembered back to the interview he'd just had, and to his school days, and the sense of the other man's omnipotence was overwhelming.

"While you are correct in your assumption of his power, it is not necessarily for those reasons." The Dark Lord's face was thoughtful. "While these Lords are meant to lead and rule over the wizarding world, they are also a safeguard, protecting magic users from themselves and their destruction."

"A safeguard from destruction my Lord? From muggles?" Lucius's quill was scratching away, periodically clinking against the inkwell as it struggled to keep up with the flow of words.

"Of a sorts. Even within this manuscript there are mentions of books or research that have few or no copies remaining. I have simply come to my own informed conclusions.

"Slytherin claims that the purpose of the three Lords is to help the wizarding world in ways only they can. To teach the different types of magic, and allow the world to prosper in a meaningful direction. His time period was one of danger and and great suspicion, where wizards and muggles were just beginning to separate. The muggles were capturing and killing anyone they thought to be a 'witch' and while many escaped, just as many didn't, and the Lords of that era built a place where they could escape to.

"The Light Lord of the 9th and 10th century was of course Godric Gryffindor, as was Slytherin the Dark Lord. The Grey Lord, according to what little mentions of her exists, was a young woman who had so little magic, she was considered nearly a squib. When in dire need however, she was able to call upon the natural magic found within nature, trees, lakes, animals and such. A bit of a pitiful person, but her use of those natural magics was what led to Hogwarts founding. She was able to make a safeguard from muggles, making it a sanctuary. However, in a joint ritual to create the foundation wards, the magic was too much for her core, and the overload killed her.

"Without her, there was no third Lord. Slytherin and Gryffindor, the remaining Lords, could agree on nothing, and Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw did little to quell their arguments. It was the four of them who began the House of Lords, and in turn the Wizengamot, in order to turn decisions over to the people.

Severus had of course learned about the founding of the Wizengamot during History of Magic lessons at Hogwarts. What hadn't been mentioned was the existence and roles that these 'Lords' had had.

"In the past millennia, there has been no mentions of Lords, be they Light, Dark or Grey. This is because there hasn't been a Grey Lord since the founding of Hogwarts, leaving the Dark and Light to their disagreements that have long since transformed into battles. The Light Lords most likely hid behind the Wizengamot, using them to govern the people. It is likely that the Dark Lords were scratched out into obscurity because of new laws.

"It is only in more recent times that the title has reemerged. When the Dark Lord Grindelwald battled with Dumbledore, the title of Dark Lord was adopted as a label for evil. Dumbledore would love nothing more than to publicly expose me as well, but he has been unable to so far. It is thanks to decades of planning that we have any current standing at all."

"It is still unknown to me how these Lords are selected. Is it blood, magic level, a circumstance of birth and era? I myself, may not have become the Dark Lord, had Slytherin's journal not found its way into my hands and guided me. I would have been a powerful wizard, no doubt, but my own youthful arrogance would have been my defeat."

The Dark Lord's eyes were oddly unfocused, as if remembering some event that had happened in his past. It was a startling realization, that his Lord could be so relaxed around his followers as to show such an emotion on his face. This before him was man who, while offering little respect to others, did not think himself omnipotent in the ways of the world.

The growing sense of fear that had lurched its way into his stomach at the thought of so few people holding such immense power was calmed somewhat. The man before him was not a monster, as some might like to portray him to be. This was someone whom he'd come to trust as his better in the past 2 years, someone he knew was working in the Darks favor, for the equality of their magic, for him.

"My Lord." His tone must have signaled something to the other man as intense eyes were quickly focused on his person.

Severus stood from his chair, the Dark Lord watching on stonily. The magic in the air was still whipping in his robe, fluttering the curtains and his hair, and he could feel the slight hint of threat that constantly edged the man before him.

Falling to one knee, he bowed his head forward, eyes closed. He was a bit surprised when he felt Lucius beside him almost immediately, but felt bolstered in his plan. When he opened his mouth, he spoke a vow taught to him as a child by his mother. It was in the old language, Latin as his forebears had spoken, used to pledge loyalty to whichever king, lord or leader held the most power with which to protect the speaker.

"Spondeo, Domine magicus, mea mentis et corporis, et offer pro usu in aequivalere. I pledge myself to you, the Dark Lord, as Severus Tobias Snape, offering my magic and body for your use."

Even as Severus spoke, he could hear Lucius speak his own words, programmed into them as children long before they could understand the meaning behind such promises. It was an even older language, and even while knowing the basic meaning, the full translation had been long forgotten.

"Yr wyf yn addo, O Arglwydd, fy meddwl a'r corff, ac yn cynnig ar gyfer eu defnyddio yn y fantol. I pledge myself before you, the Dark Lord, as Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, offering my magic and body for your use."

It was the same promise that Severus had given to the Dark Lord, little more than 2 years. A promise for the one who was their leader, and their guidance in life and in magic. It had been taken with the seriousness of a magically binding promise, and was taken again now with greater fervor than was his reaffirmation of that promise.

Severus, eyes still closed, felt a strand of magic swirl about his left wrist, reaching up to the Dark Mark. A sharp heat spread out from it, warm, a burning, tingling sensation that flowed up his arm and through his body. His pledge was accepted, and the rest of his anxiety was removed. There was a true Dark Lord again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it seems to end in a strange place, but it was getting so long... the second half of this chapter will now become chapter 3, where the continued explanation of the prophecy will be revealed. Please look forward to it sometime this month as well!
> 
> Please also let me know what you think of Voldy so far.. I wrote this over the span of several months, so all the pieces might not flesh together perfectly, but what do you think? To nice? Not Dark enough? Strangely interesting? Let me know~

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note
> 
> This fic will be slightly AU, with some events staying the same, and others changing drastically. The overall pace might seem a bit slow, but each chapter is filled with multiple, layered and intertwining stories. This whole story will likely be fairly low on romance. I'm not so good at writing 'love'. This will NOT be a dark-themed story. There will be dark bits and pieces but it WILL have a happy ending, if I ever reach that point.
> 
> Finally this is a bit of a slow updating story. I hope it's worth reading anyways, but I apologize in advance.
> 
> Thank-you for reading!


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